


The Dark Road We Travel

by a_genderfluid_otter



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Ballet Dancer Victor Nikiforov, F/F, Female Viktor referred to as Viktoria, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rule 63, Sexual Fantasy, Swan Lake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_genderfluid_otter/pseuds/a_genderfluid_otter
Summary: Her position of Prima Ballerina has been set in stone since Viktoria came to Yakov and Madame's St. Petersburg Ballet Academy. She's the best in her class and not a single person she knows would question that. But she can't help her anger, her blatant confusion when Katsuki Yuuri is chosen as the Swan Queen for this year's production of Swan Lake and she is relegated to the part of Odile. But this rivalry isn’t the only confusing aspect of their relationship.





	The Dark Road We Travel

**Author's Note:**

> This is based entirely on the events of a roleplay I have been taking part in where Viktoria and Yuuri have a rivals-to-lovers dynamic going on. The entire interaction is a companion piece of what is going on in Viktoria's mind after Yuuri breaks her ankle and the two are growing closer as friends except now she's catching the feelings. And, specifically, the lust. So here's Viktoria having sexual fantasies about Odette and Odile.

“Do you have weird dreams?” Viktoria asks one afternoon. She and Chris are alone in the studio, cooling down after the grueling practice.

Chris looks up from where he’s icing his ankle, a frown laid across his face.

“I had a dream that my boyfriend once turned into a block of cheese and I ate him.”

For a moment, she doesn’t know how to respond.

“That’s weird,” Viktoria finally manages. “Not something I’d tell anyone else, either, but not what I mean.” 

“Why? What weird dreams are you having?”

Viktoria sighs as she picks at the laces of her shoes. For the longest time, it’s hard to get the words out, like she’s wrestling with the idea of even telling Chris.

“I dream about Swan Lake.”

“So, an anxiety dream.”

“No, not… not quite.” Viktoria has had anxiety dreams in the past; she’s dreamt of messing up steps or coming in at the wrong time or a fiery failure to the crescendoing laughter of her peers. This…

“I dream about Odile.”

“Oh?”

“And I dream about Odette.”

“What about them? The scene where Odile seduces the prince?”

“Not… No. It’s…” Viktoria sighs. “It’s always the same. It’s where Odile’s father goes to the palace in disguise and Odile goes to Odette.”

...

In her dreams, it’s always Odette staring at herself in the water. She’s whole and soft, a white light stalwart against a black night. She’s alone. Then she’s not. 

Odile rises up like a black shadow, Odette’s mirror in almost every way--Odette is a vision in white with hair like ink whereas Odile is covered in the shades of night with hair like spun silver. After Odile announces her presence, Odette jumps to her feet. They dance, a slow sizing up of one another, then Odile starts to mimic the moves of the prince. The dance says that the prince has chosen another, that Odette was a fleeting fancy of a stupid boy. 

Odette is, at first, obstinate that Odile is wrong. Then she’s heartbroken. 

When Odette thinks of suicide, though, she’s not alone, not this time. 

Odile, fierce and capable Odile draws near to her. She touches her, moves her beneath her hands. Words unspoken fold across Odette’s skin at the lightest touches of Odile’s fingers. They dance together.

She’s been watching Odette. She’s been adoring Odette. She’s got a solution that could satiate them both. 

Odette doesn’t push her away as Odile expects. She lets herself be spread across the forest floor, her body a white canvas covered in frills and lace. Odile is struck with the notion that Odette is the most pure, gentle creature she’s ever seen.

Odile wants to ruin that. 

She hikes up Odette’s dress, revealing miles and miles of soft legs beneath. And Odette, all Odette does is sigh and shiver as Odile’s fingers graze lower, lower…

Her thighs close around Odile’s arm when probing fingers find the closed folds of her sex, but she doesn’t stop her. Instead, she keens when Odile’s fingers dip inside, stroking at her rapidly growing arousal. 

Odile knows for a fact that Odette has never been touched like this and it fuels something in her. She withdraws her hand, fingers soaked in the dew of Odette’s need and when Odile brings it to her lips for a taste, Odette whines and spreads herself wanting and open. 

When Odile reaches there once more, she watches Odette’s breasts heave with every dreamy sigh, not daring to quiet the sounds of her pleasure. More, she wants more, Odette chants. Odile works her faster, until working Odette’s arousal starts to bring her closer and closer and Odette’s thighs are soaked in her own wetness. 

Odette buries her hands in Odile’s hair, Odette’s body singing for Odile as she struggles to hold on. 

“Cry out for me, sweet princess,” Odile purrs, hovering over the woman beneath her. 

“Odile,  _ Odile _ ,” she cries. 

“Are you ready? Will you give yourself over?”

“Yes, anything for you, Odile, yes.”

“Will you devote yourself to me, then? Your body, your mind, your soul mine for the taking?”

“Yes, Odile, I belong to you, Odile.”

Odile looks down to see brown eyes dark with arousal, but wide with sincerity. Odette doesn’t have it in her to lie. She’s not ruthless or treacherous—Odile will teach her that. Her father might have rendered Odette defenceless, but now Odile will teach Odette how to turn her curse into advantage. 

“Cry for me. Once more.”

Odile can see that Odette is struggling to form words and it makes her burn with pride. She’s a mess and Odile has never, ever seen something as lovely as the woman now destroyed by her own passions. Their passions, really.

When Odile moves her fingers with a fraction more purpose, Odette’s entire body goes rigid. Her mouth flies open and her eyes clamp shut, rolling into a base ecstasy. Odile feels a rush of power through her body as Odette cries out the only name she seems able to conjure. 

“ _ Viktoria _ !”

 

Viktoria jolts awake with a gasp that night, struggling to place herself. As she looks around, she remembers that she’s now in her bedroom and alone. Makkachin lays at the foot of her bed, snoring softly in his peaceful state, undisturbed. 

A dream.  _ Just  _ a dream, she insists. Viktoria sighs, frustrated by the fact it’s the fourth time this week she’s woken up with soaked underwear, but the first time she’s woken up with her thighs soaked, too. 

As she gets up to change, her heart pounding and head dizzy, she’s knows she can’t keep ignoring this all forever. Her hand passes between her own legs, the tip of her finger circling her engorged clit and in that moment, the image of Yuuri sprawled across that soft grass comes back to mind. 

No, she needs to face the truth of it sooner rather than later, before she too rips her Odette out of her dress. 


End file.
